


The Lines In Your Kitchen Table (Only Show You How to Drown)

by Kapua



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types, Wiedźmin | The Witcher Series - Andrzej Sapkowski
Genre: Bartender AU, F/F, Mild Angst, Modern AU, Mutual Pining, but a happy smutty ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-03
Updated: 2020-08-03
Packaged: 2021-03-06 03:55:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,105
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25696870
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kapua/pseuds/Kapua
Summary: Yennefer's Thursday night starts off like any other. She's mid-grumble to Jaskier about not being able to get a moment's peace when the door swings open and the most beautiful woman she's ever seen walks in.The White Orchard isn't a total dump, by any means, but their clientele tends to run somewhere between "just got off work at the factory" and "coming off a week-long bender." So, seeing a petite woman in tight black skinny jeans, black heels, and an oversized burgundy jumper that hangs off one shoulder is not at all what she was expecting. The woman is gorgeous, and Yennefer's tongue sticks to the roof of her mouth as she approaches the bar."What can I get for you?"AKA a modern AU where Yennefer is a bartender and Tissaia wanders into the pub one night. Cue flirting, pining, a dash of angst, and a happy ending.
Relationships: Tissaia de Vries/Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg
Comments: 32
Kudos: 154





	The Lines In Your Kitchen Table (Only Show You How to Drown)

**Author's Note:**

> So. I thought this would be a simple, short one-shot in response to a tumblr prompt. Annnnddd then somehow it became 7k. With some angst. Because I am apparently incapable of writing pure fluff, even when the prompt is literally just “MEET CUTE WITH SMUT.” C'est la vie.

"Geralt! Handle that, will you?"

Yennefer doesn't bother looking to see whether Geralt is listening. He's reliable enough, and he's probably already noticed the fight brewing in the back corner. It's a Thursday night, and while it's by no means as crazy as a proper weekend evening she's already had to call Geralt to break up three brawls—and one of the taps is broken, to boot. She ducks underneath the counter to wrestle with the tubing there, and grins when she manages to force it into submission.

"Hah! You owe me a weekend shift!" she crows triumphantly at Jaskier as she stands. He looks like he's just taken a bite of something unpleasant and shakes his head.

"I'll never understand how you're able to do that," he grumbles. 

"You shouldn't doubt me," Yennefer retorts. "Now are you going to help me serve the customers or not?"

Jaskier shrugs and rests his elbows on the bar, sighing dreamily as he watches Geralt glare at the men who were edging their way towards a fight, his hulking frame making them look almost small in comparison. Yennefer groans and turns to the queue. Jaskier is hilarious and a pretty decent friend when he can be arsed to bother thinking about someone other than himself, but a stellar coworker he is not.

It takes her half an hour to work through everyone's orders, and she's wiping her hands on a towel when the front door swings open. Yennefer is about to grumble to Jaskier about not being able to get a moment's peace when she sees the woman who has just walked inside.

The White Orchard isn't a total dump, by any means, but their clientele tends to run somewhere between "just got off work at the factory" and "coming off a week-long bender." So, seeing a petite woman in tight black skinny jeans, black heels, and an oversized burgundy jumper that hangs off one shoulder is not at all what she was expecting. The woman is gorgeous, and Yennefer's tongue sticks to the roof of her mouth as she approaches the bar.

"What can I get for you?"

Now that they're closer she can admire the sharp lines of the woman's jaw, the way a few tendrils of hair have come loose from the braided knot pinned at the nape of her neck. Her eyes are a lovely shade of blue behind thick-rimmed glasses, and Yennefer thinks she might combust when a pink tongue flicks out to moisten her lips. It's entirely distracting, and Yennefer almost misses the woman's response.

"Whiskey."

Yennefer blinks, caught off guard for a second time in less than sixty seconds. "Uhh—are you sure? This isn't exactly an establishment known for its fine whiskey."

"If I'd wanted fine whiskey I would have gone the next street over to the Aretuza, now, wouldn't I?" The woman says, arching a brow in a way that should  _ not _ be sexy but definitely is. Yennefer shrugs and grabs the least-offensive whiskey they have, pouring a generous tumbler of it. Who is she to argue with a beautiful woman who apparently has minimal respect for her tastebuds or liver?

She hands it over, and the woman gives her a small smile that makes her want to melt. "I'll keep a tab open."

Yennefer nods, not trusting her voice at the moment, and watches as the woman weaves her way through the crowd to a small table tucked in the corner. She sits down and rummages around in her bag before pulling out...a  _ book _ ? It's not the most ridiculous thing Yennefer has ever seen someone do in the pub, but it's also definitely not what she was expecting. Because really, who comes to a pub on a Thursday night to  _ read _ ?

She watches with fascination as the woman proceeds to read for the next two hours, seemingly oblivious to the noise around her. And at the end of the night, when the woman comes to settle her bill, she pays with a card. Yennefer casually glances at the name on the receipt and commits it to memory:  _ Tissaia de Vries _ . 

The woman—Tissaia—throws her a parting smile and then she's out the door. Yennefer spends the rest of her shift wondering who the woman was, why she'd come to the White Orchard, and generally pining over her. By the end of the night Jaskier is ready to strangle her, but she waves him off. He wouldn't understand. He's got Geralt. 

Yen has...well, certainly not anyone who looks at her the way that Geralt looks at Jaskier. But even without that emotional component, it's been ages since she's felt drawn to another person like this. She's curious, and she resolves that if Tissaia ever comes back she won't let the opportunity pass by a second time.

###

It turns into something of a weekly occurrence, after that first Thursday. Tissaia comes to the bar, orders shitty whiskey, and then sits and reads. Yennefer can't make any sense of it, and she also can't seem to muster up the courage to just  _ talk _ to Tissaia. 

Oh, she's gotten the other woman's name, and they've progressed to exchanging basic pleasantries. But it's not anything more than that no matter how much Yen wills it to be, and she knows it's her own fault for not just sucking it up and making a move. She thinks Tissaia might even be interested, if the way she occasionally catches the woman watching her from across the pub is any indication, but she's still nervous to ruin things. She's got a track record of fucking up good things, and she doesn't want this to be another incident to add to the list.

Jaskier has repeatedly told her that if she doesn't sort herself out, he's going to take the opportunity to make a move on her behalf, which sounds terrifying. If Yennefer is worried about being rejected by Tissaia if she tries anything too forward, she's exponentially more concerned if Jaskier decides to butt in. The man has no tact, and even less awareness of exactly how infuriating he can be without even trying.

The perfect opening comes to her out of nowhere as she brings Tissaia's drink to her one evening. Since the woman always orders the same thing, Yen figures there's no sense for her to wait at the bar. Plus it gives her a few moments to chat without having to worry about Jaskier eavesdropping.

She's setting the tumbler down on the table when she catches sight of the book Tissaia is reading:  _ A Critique of Pure Reason _ by Immanuel Kant. 

"Wouldn't have pegged you for a Kant type of woman," she comments. The words are out before she can think better of them, and she winces as Tissaia's eyebrows raise.

"And what kind of woman would you have pegged me for?" she asks slowly, setting the book down on the table and crossing her arms as she looks up at Yennefer, who shrugs.

"I dunno. Honestly, I should probably have given up trying to fit you into a box the first night you came in here and ordered your whiskey and sat down to read." She rubs the back of her neck and tries not to look as awkward as she feels, but then Tissaia huffs out a small laugh.

"Well. You would have been right about me in this case. He's not generally what I prefer, but a colleague is campaigning against including more...modern philosophers in the curriculum, and I figured I might as well reread everyone he's so enamored with so that I can formulate a better argument against them." 

Yennefer knows that Tissaia is a professor at one of the universities in town from their past brief conversations. But she's never gotten much other information, and her brow furrows at this new revelation.

"They want to keep everyone reading a bunch of stuffy old white men, don't they," she guesses, delighting in the surprised burst of genuine laughter her comment draws from Tissaia. It's a wonderful sound that feels almost out of place in the dingy pub, but Yennefer promptly resolves to try to make the smaller woman laugh as frequently as possible.

"Yes, I'm afraid you've captured their sentiments rather well," Tissaia replies. She leans back in her chair and waves a dismissive hand. "The mere thought that anyone who isn't part of their old boy's club might have something of value to contribute is enough to make them apoplectic."

Yennefer snorts and shakes her head. "One more reason I'm glad I decided to stick around here at the pub instead of trying to swim in those shark-infested waters. I don't know how you do it."

"There are sharks everywhere, though, aren't there? Just a matter of which ones will eat you alive rather than wound you." 

Yennefer is caught off guard by the response. It's quite a bit darker than she was expecting, but she can't argue the truth in the words. After all, it's not as if she doesn't have to put up with men coming round the pub and getting handsy with her on a nightly basis. One time Geralt had to knock a man out when they found him skulking about outside the pub after they closed. He claimed he was just waiting to ask her for a date, but she has her doubts about that.

"For what it's worth," Yennefer says lightly, "I wouldn't care to go against you even if I  _ was _ a shark. Seems to me you're the type to come up with some sort of sharp stabby thingy to take their eyes out if they get too close."

"I thought you weren't going to put me in any more boxes?" Tissaia asks, but her lips are quirked up at the edges. 

Before Yennefer can respond, someone shouts her name from across the pub. She glances over and sees Jaskier waving frantically at her, gesturing towards the very large crowd that's managed to form around the bar.

"Duty calls," she grumbles. Tissaia looks disappointed for a second before her features are schooled back into a neutral expression, but the brief slip makes Yennefer's heart jump.

"Go on then, I've monopolized enough of your time for the evening," Tissaia says. Yennefer summons her best roguish grin and shakes her head.

"I could spend all night talking to you and it still wouldn't be long enough."

She turns and heads for the bar without waiting to see Tissaia's reaction, but the smile stays on her face the rest of her shift. 

###

Tissaia becomes an even more regular sight in the pub after that. She stops by earlier in the evening so that Yennefer isn't as busy and can talk more, and every once in a while she'll drop in with take away for Yen, Geralt, and Jaskier, complete with fond jabs about how they're all liable to forget to eat if someone doesn't remind them. Even Jaskier, who normally thinks that all of Yen's flings are wastes of time, is rather taken with Tissaia and takes to hassling Yennefer less when she spends inordinate amounts of time chatting with her during their shifts.

Their conversations run the gamut from casual to deeply personal. Yen can't recall the last time someone took such a genuine interest in her with no ulterior motives. She's never been one to open up or do a lot of sharing about her life, but something about Tissaia makes it easy to trust her and talk openly without fearing how her words will be received. No matter what the topic, Tissaia always watches her with such warmth that it makes Yennefer melt, and she knows she's falling hard and fast.

She tells Tissaia about growing up with absentee parents, and how she stumbled into working at the pub quite by accident. The way that Tissaia's mouth pinches when Yen shares that she was dating Geralt at the time doesn't go unnoticed, and she can't help but laugh.

"He's far better with Jaskier," she says, smirking at how Tissaia's frown mostly dissipates with the revelation. "And besides, he was more of a one-off. Not my usual type."

Tissaia's eyebrow raises ever so slightly. "Oh? Then what  _ is _ your type?"

It takes everything in Yen not to say  _ You, you're my type _ . But she still can't decide whether Tissaia would be interested in anything beyond friendship with her (it's stupid, both Jaskier and Geralt have told her as much, and deep in her gut she  _ knows  _ that the way Tissaia looks at her means she's probably at least open to the idea. And yet the tiny chance that she might scare the woman away is plenty to keep her mouth shut). So instead, she wrinkles her nose as she glances over her shoulder at Geralt, who is currently leaning against the wall and surveying the pub.

"Able to speak in non-monosyllabic grunts," is what she settles on, and when Tissaia laughs she blows out a breath. It's almost painful to be so close to the woman and still unable to make herself take that last little leap of faith.

In exchange for her honesty (about everything  _ but  _ her burgeoning desire), Yennefer gets to hear more about Tissaia's life. There was apparently a bad breakup with an ex who didn't take it well, and Yennefer wants to find him and strangle him when she sees the way Tissaia curls in on herself just the tiniest bit when she describes him. But the smaller woman moves on from the topic rather quickly, and Yennefer can take a hint and lets it drop for the moment.

Besides the breakup, she also learns more about Tissaia's job (she's absolutely brilliant, is the gist of what Yennefer gets from that conversation), about her family (no contact in years, they disowned her when she opted against becoming a doctor), and about her little quirks (like how she always arranges her things on the tabletop so that they're in neat, orderly sections that run parallel to the edges of the table). Every new piece of information further cements Yennefer's belief that Tissaia is absolutely too good to be true, and their visits become the highlight of her week.

That's what makes it so jarring when Tissaia doesn't come in for an entire week. Yennefer tries not to worry, but this is the longest she's gone without seeing or hearing from Tissaia since the first night the woman walked into the pub three months ago. Even when she's too busy to sit, she's always made a point of dropping in just to say hello. 

A whole week of total radio silence instantly sets off alarm bells in Yennefer's head, and Jaskier and Geralt barely manage to talk her out of starting to call every hospital around the city to see if they have anyone matching Tissaia's description in their care.

Not for the first time, Yennefer curses herself for not making an effort to at least get Tissaia's phone number. She contemplates showing up at the uni where Tissaia works before deciding that might be a little too stalkerish—after all, it's been  _ one week _ . That's not long enough to justify a full-blown hunt for the woman, is it?

Every night that passes with no sign of Tissaia is another night for her brain to conjure up every possible horrific thing that could have happened. It's torture, and by the end of the week she can see that even Jaskier and Geralt are beginning to worry.

It's Monday night (the tenth day since she's seen Tissaia, but who's counting?) when the smaller woman unexpectedly walks through the front door. The pub is practically dead, which Yennefer has never been more grateful for because it means that she feels exactly zero guilt for abandoning the bar to practically sprint over to Tissaia.

"Tissaia! You're okay!" She skids to a stop in front of the woman she's spent practically every waking moment worrying about for the last week, eyeing her up and down. Tissaia looks more or less fine. There are faint dark circles under her eyes and her posture is just a hair defensive as Yennefer takes another step closer, but she smiles at Yennefer and the relief that pounds through the younger woman is overwhelming. 

"Hello, Yennefer." Tissaia gifts her a small smile that makes Yen glow with its sincerity. "Why wouldn't I be okay?"

Yennefer flushes. She wonders if she's been reading too much into their interactions, if she's coming across as a total nutcase right now for being so worried about a one-week interruption of their routine. "I just—you didn't stop by, and I hadn't heard from you so I was worried that something might have happened."

Tissaia's smile fades into a frown. "I'm sorry, Yen. I left a voicemail on the pub phone when I realized I didn't have your cell. I didn't mean to make you worry."

Yennefer's head whips around to stare at the location where she knows the pub's phone is sitting underneath the bar. It's ancient technology that none of them bother with unless absolutely necessary. The last time she checked the machine (she thinks it was last month? Maybe?) the little red blinking light said that they had 67 new voicemails. She turns back to meet Tissaia's eyes, suddenly guilty that it's her own fault for not getting the message.

"We....ah...don't check the answering machine very often," she says. She doesn't want to admit that she and Jaskier have taken bets on how long it will take them to rack up 100 unanswered voicemails. It suddenly seems incredibly juvenile and stupid when it could have prevented her from spending so many hours unnecessarily worrying that Tissaia was dead or dying somewhere.

The smaller woman's lips quirk and Yennefer has the distinct impression that her half-assed explanation was completely see through, but then Tissaia sighs and shakes her head with a fond expression.

"Well, I suppose all the more reason for you to give me your cell so that this doesn't happen again."

Yennefer tries not to choke on the breath she's just taken, her mind flip-flopping at Tissaia asking for her number. Which, it's a  _ totally platonic _ thing to do. Right? There's no reason for her to read into this. But she can't help the way her heart beats a little faster as Tissaia enters the numbers into her phone and promptly sends a text so that Yennefer will have her number as well. The message contains an emoji blowing a kiss, and Yennefer thinks she might combust from trying to figure out what to do next.

Tissaia puts her out of her misery with a wry smile as she heads for her usual table. Yennefer almost trips over herself in her haste to run back to the bar to pour a whiskey before joining Tissaia. As they sit and talk, the anxiety of the past week dissipates in the easy banter and warm affection. 

Apparently there was something that came up with the ex that needed to be handled in short order—Tissaia’s explanation contains a lot of legal jargon that goes over Yennefer’s head, but the main takeaway seems to be that the man is still a total arse, and also incompetent.

It’s nearly midnight when Tissaia glances at her watch and blinks with surprise at the time. 

“I’d better get home,” she murmurs apologetically. “I’ve got to teach in the morning.”

She stands, and Yennefer walks her to the door. Tissaia hesitates for a second at the door and then leans in to brush a soft kiss against Yennefer’s cheek.

“I missed you. And I’m sorry again for making you worry.”

Yennefer’s heart is beating double-time, but she tries to look casual as she waves Tissaia’s apology away. “Don’t worry about it. Besides, now I can pester you any time I want.” She holds up her phone as a reminder, and Tissaia smiles before turning to head out.

“And Tissaia?” 

The smaller woman stops when Yennefer calls after her. 

“I missed you too.”

###

Things shift even more once they're able to communicate outside the bar. Yennefer sends Tissaia pictures of adorable fluffy animals when she's having a bad day, and Tissaia entertains Yennefer with stories about the ridiculous hijinks her students get into. It occurs to Yennefer one evening as she types out a good night text that they're basically dating...just without any kissing. Or anything else. 

Which is not to say that she doesn't want that—because  _ god _ , she wants Tissaia. It's gotten harder and harder to ignore the impulse to just shove her against the wall and kiss her senseless every time she sees her. But now that she sees what it's like to have Tissaia in her life outside of the bar, she can't bear to fuck it up. She adores everything about the woman (sometimes, in the middle of the night when she can't sleep, she can almost admit to herself that this might be what love feels like. Almost.) and she can't get rid of the fear that asking for more will bring everything crashing down around her. 

Because why would Tissaia, who is brilliant and worldly and so fucking  _ gorgeous _ , want to be with a scrappy bartender who never even went to uni? Tissaia is so far out of her league it's not even funny, and Yennefer tells herself to be grateful that she even gets to be friends with the other woman.

That line of thinking works until it doesn't. One night, Tissaia comes into the bar and that's the end of it. Yennefer can't bring herself to  _ not _ say something, to at least try and see whether there could be more between them. After a hasty (and completely useless) whispered conference with Jaskier, Yennefer gives up trying to plan out what she's going to say and decides she'll just wing it. Tissaia likes her, which means she likes her impulsiveness. Right? 

She's gearing up to walk over with Tissaia's drink when the pub door swings open and a man stomps inside. Yen can tell at a glance that he's looking for a fight, and she's about to call for Geralt when the man storms over to Tissaia's table. He grabs her by the arm, bodily lifting her out of her chair and trying to drag her towards the door.

"Is this where you've been hiding from me? Did you think I wouldn't find you eventually?"

"Vilgefortz, let me go." Tissaia's voice is strained, and Yennefer frowns as she recognizes the name of Tissaia's ex. Her eyes dart between the grip he has on Tissaia's arm and the way the woman is clearly resisting his attempts to pull her out of the pub, and she's across the pub and shoving herself between them before she can think better of it. 

"Sir, she asked you to let her go." 

She looks him dead in the eye with her most intimidating glare, but she softens for a moment when she feels fingers tugging at her elbow. She glances over and sees Tissaia watching her with wide eyes, silently begging her to let this go, but Yennefer can't. Now that she's closer she can see where the man's fingers are biting into the pale skin of Tissaia's upper arm in a way that's sure to leave bruises, and there's no way in hell that she's going to let him leave with Tissaia.

"Fuck you," Vilgefortz snarls, drawing himself up to his full height. "Mind your own fucking business."

"What you do in this pub is my business," Yennefer retorts. "Now let go of her, or I'll have you escorted out."

Vilgefortz's eyes look between Yen and Tissaia before narrowing. "She's got to you too, hasn't she?" he mutters. "Well don't believe a word she says, she's a lying bitch—"

Yennefer's fist connects with his nose, cutting off whatever else he was going to say as he stumbles back. He lets go of Tissaia and stares at Yen with disbelief before starting towards her. 

"Oh, girl, you're going to regret that."

"No, I don't think I will," Yen replies. And sure enough, as Vilgefortz takes another step, he's suddenly sent flying through the air as Geralt tackles him from behind. The whole pub devolves into chaos for a few minutes as Geralt and Vilgefortz struggle on the floor, other patrons shouting and cheering. All it takes is Geralt finally being able to get a good punch in to send Vilgefortz sprawling unconscious, and Yen lets out the breath she didn't even realize she was holding. She turns to look for Tissaia, to make sure that she's all right, and her stomach sinks when she doesn't see her. 

She runs out of the pub to try to find the other woman, but the street outside shows no signs of Tissaia. Yennefer curses and heads back inside to grab her phone and call her. She only meant to protect Tissaia, but she can't shake the feeling that she's somehow managed to royally fuck things up. 

Inside the pub, Geralt is dragging Vilgefortz towards the door, and Yen doesn't spare him a glance as she steps over him to get to the bar. She picks up her phone and pulls up Tissaia's contact, pressing dial as she goes into the back room. The phone doesn't even ring—just sends her straight to voicemail, and Yennefer hangs up. She has no clue what to say, and the knot of worry in her stomach grows larger as she stares down at her phone and wonders what the fuck she's supposed to do now.

###

The most miserable week of Yennefer's life goes by in a blur. She stops calling Tissaia after the first thirty calls go unanswered. If nothing else, she can take a hint.

But she doesn't  _ understand _ . She knows she shouldn't have butted in, but what else was she supposed to do? There was no way she could stand by and watch Tissaia get hurt. It's painful on a level she'd never anticipated to not be willing to change the thing that's lost her Tissaia. She would do the exact same thing all over again if she needed to, but now her heart feels like it's breaking every time she looks over at the table ( _ Tissaia's table _ ) where the other woman always sat and sees someone else seated there. 

Geralt and Jaskier try to cheer her up, but she doesn't think there's really an easy fix to a broken heart. She throws herself into work, and the bar has never been as clean as it becomes during that week. She even finally goes through the answering machine (topped out at 101 messages, and Jaskier owes her a tenner), although she barely holds back the tears when she hears Tissaia's voice come over the tinny speaker, explaining that something personal has come up but she'll be back soon, not to worry.

It's a Thursday night, which is her least favorite night of the week now that she doesn't get to see Tissaia. The knowledge that the other woman likely has no desire to see her ever again doesn't stop Yen from looking up with fresh hope every time the door opens, and then deflating when it's inevitably some rando off the street.

"You guys can go home," she says, waving at Jaskier as he mops the floor after they shut down for the night. "I can finish up here by myself."

"You sure?" he asks, leaning on the mop and watching her carefully. 

The sheer fact that Jaskier isn't jumping at the opportunity to do less work is enough to get a faint smile from Yennefer. "What, has hell frozen over? Are you  _ willingly volunteering _ to stay late and do more work?"

Jaskier quickly shakes his head, leaning the mop against the wall and jogging to grab Geralt by the arm and drag him towards the door. 

"You're a gem, babes," he calls over his shoulder as he shoves Geralt outside. "Call if you need anything!"

When the door closes, Yennefer lets herself sag against the bar. It's exhausting to try to pretend like she's not half a second away from a breakdown all day, and she scrubs a hand over her tired eyes before shuffling over to her phone and hooking it into the pub's sound system. She puts on a moderately mopey selection of songs (Jaskier calls it her "I'm a snack and no one's hungry" playlist, though she would argue that there are plenty of hungry people, just not the one she wants) and goes back to cleaning up.

She's lost in the mundanity of the tasks when someone knocks on the front door. Yennefer frowns. It's well past closing, and she flipped the sign on the door herself. There shouldn't be anyone trying to come in. But she thinks that perhaps it's someone who lost their phone and is trying to retrace their steps or something, so she goes to the door and peers through the fogged window. She can't tell exactly who it is, but it's not Vilgefortz (the thought that he might come back to the pub has crossed her mind more than once, though Geralt said he'd made it very clear what would happen if the man got any ideas about that). 

Reassured that she's not about to get the crap beat out of her, she opens the door and her jaw drops when she sees Tissaia standing there.

She'd put a good deal of thought into what she would say to the smaller woman if she ever got the chance—apologies and promises to never interfere in anything personal again, among other things—but now that she's unexpectedly face to face with her she can't think of a single thing to say. Tissaia's face is neutral, revealing nothing, but after a second she tips her head at the door and asks, "Can I come in?"

Yennefer nods mutely, stepping aside and then closing and locking the door once they're both inside. She turns to look at Tissaia, who is watching her with an inscrutable expression, and she bites her lip. This is it. This is her chance to try to salvage things, and she's fucking it up. She's hopeless, can't even string a fucking sentence together—

Her train of thought goes blank as soft lips cover her own. She's sure she's dreaming, she must have fallen asleep behind the bar or something, because there is no way that Tissaia is  _ kissing _ her, hands coming up to cradle her face tenderly as she pulls away. But the way that blue eyes are looking at her clear and bright feels real, and when Tissaia leans in and presses their foreheads together, warm breath mingling in the small space between them, Yennefer begins to wonder if maybe this isn't all in her head.

"I've wanted to do that for months, now," Tissaia murmurs, and Yennefer's brain screeches to a halt. But if this is happening, then fuck it, she's going to roll with it.

"Me too," she confesses. Then she pulls back a little. "Wait. So you're not mad at me? For punching Vilgefortz?"

Tissaia shakes her head. "No. I just...I needed to make sure that chapter of my life was closed for good before I came back here. I couldn't bear it if anything happened to you because of me. You have no idea how terrified I was when he started to go after you." 

She looks at Yennefer with so much care and affection it almost brings tears to Yennefer's eyes. Happy tears, because she never could have imagined that Tissaia is not only not mad at her but apparently  _ wants _ her, but she still doesn't really want to cry right now so she swallows hard and leans forward to bury her face in Tissaia's hair until her emotions are more controlled.

For her part, Tissaia seems content to just rest in the embrace. Her hands have slid to wrap around the back of Yennefer's neck, and her lips are resting just above the younger woman's clavicle. 

When she's sure she isn't going to burst into tears, Yennefer leans back until she can see Tissaia's face.

"Why didn't you ever say anything?" 

Tissaia shrugs. "I didn't want to harass you at your place of work. I'm sure you get that all the time, and I just...I didn't want to be one more person asking more of you than you want to give. But I couldn't bear not telling you anymore."

"First," Yennefer says, "let me be very clear: you have never even come close to asking more of me than I wanted to give. Honestly, I'd give you everything if you asked it." 

She pauses. She hadn't meant for that last bit to come out, but it's the truth, so she clears her throat and soldiers on.

"Second,  _ god _ I'm glad you did something. I kept trying to work myself up to asking you on a proper date, but I thought you couldn't possibly be interested in someone like me."

"Someone like you?" Tissaia asks in confusion. "Yen, you're incredible. You're everything I could ever want. Was that not clear from the fact that I kept coming back to drink your shit whiskey night after night?"

Yennefer grins a little, the reality of what's happening sinking in and leaving her feeling pleasantly buzzed even though she hasn't drunk anything. "Well how was I supposed to know? Maybe you have a thing for shit whiskey."

Her smile evaporates as she catches the way Tissaia licks her lips, and she shivers.

"Sweet, foolish girl," Tissaia murmurs, stretching up to breathe the words against the shell of her ear. "It's always been you I wanted."

Yen whines, the words making her throb with desire. She's spent so long thinking she'll never be able to have her this way, and now Tissaia is here, practically pinning her against the wall, and it's almost too much to imagine not being able to touch the smaller woman  _ everywhere _ .

She dips her head to kiss Tissaia again and shivers when she feels the smaller woman's mouth open. The hot slide of their tongues makes her desperate for more, and her hands skim across Tissaia's back as she tries to decide where to put them. She thinks she might combust on the spot when Tissaia reaches back and grasps one of her hands, leading it up until it's cupping a breast. Yennefer squeezes ever so gently and Tissaia arches up into the sensation, her head tipping back as her eyes close. 

A quiet moan falls from Tissaia's lips and Yennefer is instantly addicted to the sound. She wants to make that happen again and again until it's the only thing she can hear, and she leans down to suck at the tender spot where Tissaia's jawline meets her neck. Tissaia's hands fly to her hair, tangling in the strands and pressing to prevent Yennefer from moving away as she pants.

"God, Yen, I want you so much. We can stop, if you want, but—"

Yennefer cuts her off with a searing kiss, pulling way just long enough to whisper, "I don't want to stop," before sliding both hands down to palm Tissaia's ass. She lifts the woman easily and is momentarily thankful for their slight size difference, but then Tissaia's legs wrap around her hips and conscious thought flees as sharp teeth nip at her neck.

She walks them until Tissaia is pressed against the bar and then sets her down, her hands immediately moving under the hem of Tissaia's shirt to slide up and cup her breasts. 

"Is this all right?" she whispers, fingertips just barely brushing against the bare skin under the band of Tissaia's bra.

"Yes," Tissaia gasps, "Keep going, please."

That's all the encouragement Yennefer needs, and she groans as she slips her hands under the lacey material and feels Tissaia's nipples harden against her palms. She rolls a nipple between her thumb and forefinger, delighting in the moan it causes. She can't wait until she's able to have Tissaia spread out beneath her on a bed, able to take all the time in the world to explore the woman's body with her mouth, but being able to touch her like this is more than enough for now.

They trade heated kisses as Yennefer keeps working at her breasts until she can feel the minute movements of Tissaia's hips as they search for some sort of friction. She breaks the kiss and lets her hands drop away as she sinks lower. Tissaia starts to protest at the loss of contact but her mouth snaps shut when she sees Yennefer kneeling in front of her.

"Okay?" Yennefer breathes, fingers lifting the bottom of Tissaia's shirt so that she can brush a kiss against the smooth skin of her stomach. She looks up and sees Tissaia nodding frantically at her.

Satisfied that Tissaia wants this, Yennefer nuzzles Tissaia's stomach as she pops the button on Tissaia's jeans and slowly peels them down the woman's legs, dragging her underwear along with them. It's a little awkward because she can't get them all the way off—Tissaia's boots prevent that, unfortunately—but she's able to tug them down just far enough that she can nudge Tissaia's legs apart. 

She can smell Tissaia's arousal as she dips her head to press a kiss to her inner thigh, nipping gently before bringing her fingers up to spread Tissaia open in front of her. 

"Gorgeous," she murmurs. "God, you have no idea how long I've wanted to do this."

Tissaia moans and one hand reaches down to twine in Yennefer's hair, not pushing, just applying light pressure. It makes Yennefer shiver, and she leans forward and lets her tongue flick out to taste. Tissaia's hips jump at the brief contact, and Yennefer quickly returns with more pressure, using the broad flat of her tongue as she explores what makes the smaller woman quiver above her. 

She can't get enough, and she dips her tongue inside of Tissaia just to see what response it gets. The hand in her hair tightens and Yennefer hums at the pleasant sting. She brings a hand up to slip two fingers inside of Tissaia, savoring the sensation of velvet heat clinging around her. When her tongue returns to drawing patterns and circles around Tissaia's clit, the smaller woman's legs tremble and a guttural groan escapes her.

"I'm not—ah—I'm not going to last if you keep that up," Tissaia pants, and it's true—Yennefer can feel the way her walls are already fluttering, and she's loving every second if it. She wants to tip Tissaia over the edge, watch her fall apart and then do it again and again until they're both exhausted and spent. 

Rather than responding verbally, she seals her lips around Tissaia's clit and sucks hard as she flicks the nub with her tongue. Tissaia keens above her, and a few more strokes of her fingers has the woman coming hard. 

Yennefer draws it out as long as she can, fingers moving at a slower pace and her tongue applying gentle pressure to tease a few extra aftershocks from the smaller woman's body. The hand that's still tangled in her hair tugs, urging her upwards and into a messy kiss that leaves Yennefer breathless. She's caught off guard when Tissaia flips their positions, somehow managing not to trip over the jeans that are caught around her calves. She gasps, hips jerking when a hand presses against the seam of her trousers.

"Can I touch you?"

By way of answer, Yennefer uses her own hand to guide Tissaia's to the button of her trousers, popping it open and sliding the zip down. Tissaia is all too happy to take her hint, and seconds later Yennefer thinks her knees might give out when she feels deft fingers rubbing quick circles against her clit.

"Tissaia," she gasps, "Inside, please—"

Tissaia kisses her hard enough to make her see stars, and then Yennefer lets out a startled cry when two fingers plunge inside of her with no warning. A third is quickly added, and she grinds down against them, trying to take them as deep as she can. The angle is challenging within the tight confines of her trousers, but Tissaia manages to twist her hand so that her thumb can press against Yennefer's clit. 

The culmination of the months of pining, the mind-blowing reality that Tissaia is  _ here _ , wanting  _ her _ , touching her and whispering in her ear about how she wants to see her come, all combine to send her spiraling higher and higher until she's teetering on the edge of what she's fairly certain is going to be the most explosive orgasm of her life. Tissaia hooks her fingers when she pulls them out, thrusting them back in just as her thumb rubs Yennefer's clit at  _ exactly _ the right angle, and that's all it takes. 

Yennefer bears down on Tissaia's fingers with a wordless scream, her whole body convulsing as her vision goes white with unadulterated pleasure. She isn't sure how long it lasts, only that when she finally comes back to herself her legs are about to collapse and she thinks she might be ruined for sex with anyone else. 

"God, Tissaia," she laughs, her voice hoarse. Soft lips curve into a satisfied smile against her neck, and Yennefer reaches down to lift her chin for another kiss. This one is slower, the whirlwind of need temporarily abating as they bask in the feeling of being in each other's arms. 

When Tissaia breaks the kiss and looks up at Yennefer, her eyes are crinkled at the corners with happiness. Her look turns mischievous and fingers that Yennefer hadn't realized were still in her pants resting against her twitch, making her hips jump. She makes a sound somewhere between a moan and a laugh as she darts forward to kiss Tissaia again. 

"Come home with me," Yennefer whispers. "I have a bed that will be far more comfortable than this bar."

The hand in her pants is gone in an instant as Tissaia licks her lips. "What are we waiting for, then?"

Clothes are buttoned up in record time, and Yennefer practically drags Tissaia out the door. Jaskier can yell at her all he wants in the morning for not finishing the closing checklist—she's got  _ far _ more important things to do with the rest of her night.

**Author's Note:**

> There you have it! Also, let’s just say that this story takes place in a world where there is no shortage of cleaning wipes and sprays, so the poor defiled bar was thoroughly sanitized before the pub opened the next day lol.
> 
> Thanks as always for reading!! :)


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